


At the Going Down of the Sun

by JoJo



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Community: mag7daybook, Episode: s01e01 Ghosts of the Confederacy, Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-01 12:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12704880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJo/pseuds/JoJo
Summary: "In war, there are no unwounded soldiers" (José Narosky)





	At the Going Down of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> for mag7daybook prompt (the above quote, offered by the inestimable randi2204 - tweaked from original response)

It wasn't even the flags. Neither was it the uniforms, the echo of canon fire, the smell of cordite weighing down the air.

That was some of it, of course, but mostly it was how his gut hurt.

Nathan wasn't even sure that this job they'd signed up for was entirely for the Seminole, or if, for most of them, it was really about following Larabee wherever he wanted to take them. Whatever it was - old memories, new fears - it transported him right back to the battlefields. Back to the shattered bones of comrades and enemies. The stink of fear and death. The powerful combination of duty, pity, fury. It twisted him up inside, but served to keep his own terrors at bay. Enough to do what was needed.

And when the guns had fallen silent, after night crept down, that was when he felt it most. 

Patched up best Nathan could manage, Buck and Josiah struggled through a night of familiar fevers. It was hard to fight off infections in these conditions, but Nathan trusted they'd prove strong enough. And then there were the others - Ezra with his enraging nonchalance, self-treating a torn shoulder with the contents of his flask, wary and wakeful; the kid J.D. snuffling in his bed roll, suddenly vulnerable, disturbed by dreams; Larabee and Tanner whispering hoarsely through the darkest hours, troubled as much as any of them, not prepared to say it.

Nathan feared for them all. For himself. But he went to his new companions in adversity, one by one. Just as he had in the past to men he barely knew, who barely knew him, not sure if he’d be met with abuse or thanks.

Didn’t matter much. Like any soldier wounded in mind or body, whatever the war, whatever the outcome, they needed comfort and Nathan would give it. Battling Colonel Anderson’s ghosts was no different in that to Fort Jackson, New Orleans or any other damned frontline.

But there was one thing not at all like the past. One thing that somehow eased Nathan's gut, but still set his heart thumping thick in his chest.

When he returned once more to Buck, then Josiah - encouraged them to take on water, checked their wounds, laid a palm over their brows - a hand came out to grab his sleeve. Kept him from moving on too soon.

“Brother,” Josiah rasped at him, grip determined. "You need to tell us. What can we do for you?”


End file.
